” She batted his arms and slapped him, angrily twisting from his grasp. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. ‘The outcome, I think, is in very little doubt. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity.
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